


The Tower of London

by Reinapuff



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reinapuff/pseuds/Reinapuff
Summary: Anne Boleyn, the mystery. The one who changed history–– the temptress. What history tended to call her, when she just honestly lived her life. After one long two show day, Boleyn finds herself stuck inside of her head, unable to get out. As the Queens had a free day the next day, they were making plans to stay up all night and marathon movies. Little did they know though, that Boleyn was having another episode of nightmares. Slamming the door shut, she feels compelled to head to the Tower of London, needing the quiet of the square to allow herself to scream.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	The Tower of London

**Author's Note:**

> Hello you lovely folks! This is from a request I got on my Tumblr to write some Anne Boleyn angst. While the characters tag only mentions Boleyn, the other queens are present! But of the queens, this is a Boleyn-centric work. Please feel free to leave a comment, come into my ask box on my Tumblr, or leave me a message on Instagram for feedback!
> 
> Tumblr: sweetestrequiems.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: @reinapuff

“Anne Boleyn, don’t you dare walk out that door.”

“Watch me.”

But it was too late. The wooden door was slammed shut, leaving five women in bewilderment at what had just happened. This was not normal behavior for Anne Boleyn, and anyone could attest to that. What had been festering in her head over the past few days would not leave her alone. The slamming door made Katherine Howard flinch and hunch her shoulders reflexively.

“Annie?”

Now, what happened during the day that Boleyn acted out in such a manner?

––––––––––

Bright and early morning.

One could smell the coffee, and that partly due to the fact that Catherine Parr used a french press. There was the sounds of the morning bustle with a rather surprising outburst of laughter from Catherine of Aragon. The last of the queens to wake up was Anne Boleyn. With how she had been feeling lately, the second wife found herself staying up later than most usual nights, and that was late enough to hear the occasional groan of frustration from Parr while she wrote.

As the door to the room opened, the other queens heard it. And enthusiastically, they all looked over at Boleyn. Katherine Howard’s eyebrows furrowed just a little, but she just shrugged it off and carried on with her bright expression after a few moments. “Anne! You’re up late. You... okay?” Her cousin in pink ran over to her and grabbed her hands. Boleyn just looked up and yawned, nodding. A small smile came to her face. “Yeah, of course! Just slept in a little later than usual.”

“That’s how we all tend to get sometimes after our days off,” Anna of Cleves gave a laugh. “Come on, slowpoke. The last seat is yours and Jane didn’t want to start breakfast without you.” The German pointed at the chair next to the second empty one, which was Howard’s as she was up and holding on to her cousin. “We’re a big family, and as such, we will eat like one. At least in the mornings, because sometimes you ladies are crazy.”

“Easy for you to say. You and Anne are the craziest of them all,” a quiet snort from Jane Seymour. The blonde woman just shook her head and allowed her smile to be present. “Come on, you two!” The cousins looked at each other with a nod and went to sit down. “Now that we’re all here, we can––... why is it that you always only drink coffee in the morning?”

A little huff, and a bit of a heavier Manchester accent from Parr. “I like coffee, what can I say? I also eat a bit while I stay up at night, you can’t blame a girl.”

––––––––––

1:30 pm. Thirty minutes before show time.

“Good afternoon ladies! This is your thirty minute call.”

A soft mutter from Boleyn as she responded, “Thank you thirty.”  
Aragon opened the door to the dressing room up, sitting down next to the green queen. “You still haven’t done your hair, bombon? Want me to do it for you?” A sigh was the response. Anne just looked up with tired eyes, shrugging. “Yeah, you can. I just haven’t been sleeping well these past few nights, is all.” Standing up, Aragon placed herself behind Boleyn, running her hands through her hair for a moment.

A knock. A collective “Come in.” came from both of the queens.

The one to open the door was Maria. “Hey. Parr wanted me to pass a message to you both,” the drummer found herself leaning against the door frame. “She wanted to ask if you two in here wanted to go eat after the first show. We’re all going, Maggie included after we convinced her to. A qué les parece eso, Lina?” There was a pause. Anne didn’t really want to go. She didn’t want to feel like such a negative ball of energy when the other queens were happy.

“Me parece bien. Necesitaban algo más, Maria?” Looking over to the door, Aragon’s hands kept working with Boleyn’s hair, trying to get her ready for the show. She had everything else done, and she was in costume, but her hair wasn’t done. “No, that was all. I’ll tell them that you’re undecided. Is that fine, Anne?”

“Oui. Je vais leur rendre visite plus tard. Merci, Maria.”  
  
Maria gave a very confused look at Anne, before realizing what she said. “Ah, okay! Yeah, no problem.” Then again, she just heard the “Yes.” and “Thank you, Maria.” as her clues to smile and give the queens a thumbs up. “I’ll leave you two to get suited up to kick Tudor ass. Ah, Lina, no te olvides de lo que hablamos.”  
  
Anne Boleyn just stared at herself in the large mirror. Something about her mood definitely did seem off. What was going on through her head? What could’ve possibly been burning at her core that she just couldn’t get off her chest? Well, the answer to that... quite simply put, is nightmares. She was reliving traumatic nightmares from the day of her beheading. She didn’t really know if she could get through the two show day without freaking out.

––––––––––

_A thunderous knock rattled the doors of where she was being held in the Tower._

_Why was Anne in her modern body? Was this another nightmare?  
It was, and she could feel herself reliving everything.  
_

_Her right hand clutched onto her chest, the rattling of the door getting progressively louder. The once bright-eyed queen felt herself cower into the corner. Why was this happening again?_

_Just as soon as the rattling became a thunderous boom, the nightmare seemed to stop. This was not the case. Anne found herself now outside of the Tower of London, trembling. She felt herself be pushed down, and her head be almost thrown to the scaffold. Looking up at the massive crowd, she saw herself. Another modern version of herself, who looked just as mortified as the Anne Boleyn on the literal chopping block._

_Right before the sword struck her neck, everything went black._

––––––––––

Anne jolted back into her reality, almost jumping through the roof when Cleves put a hand on her. The sudden short breaths from the one in green made the fourth wife worried. She helped her counterpart up, and gently pulled her towards the door. “Beruhige dich! Geht es dir gut?” The German woman gave a side hug to the second wife, with a nod being the thing she responds with.

“Ladies, this is your final places call.”

“Thank you, places!” Aragon closed the door to the dressing room and gave Boleyn a pat on the shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re with us. Come on, let’s go kick some serious Tudor ass and take our stories back.”

––––––––––

To think, that was only the first half of the day. The second half went much worse.

Normally, Anne Boleyn was one to go and greet the fans. Take pictures with them, sign things. But she quite literally could not handle the crowds tonight. Sure, it wasn't the first time this happened, but not even to this degree. Sitting in the dressing room, out of her costume and back into the pair of sweatpants and oversized pullover she loved to wear. Her hair remained down and all. Taking just a few deep breaths, her left hand came up to the choker.

It was burning like crazy. Her scar would not stop hurting. Her head would not stop pounding.

“Anne? Hey, are you ready to go home?” Katherine Howard, her beloved cousin. She wished she could share what was paining her with the girl, but she could not find the strength to open up. A nod came from Anne as she grabbed her bag and followed Kitty outside of the room, and to the exterior of the theatre where everyone else was waiting. “I got her! She was just zoning out.”

“Sorry. I just... I needed to breathe.”

“Well relax, babe. Everything’s all okay with us. You know we’ll give you the space if y’need it,” Catherine Parr nodded. The Ladies in Waiting all stood with the Queens, with nods going across the board. Maggie stepped up, gently taking Boleyn’s hands in her own and whispering. “Est-ce les cauchemars? You look pale from it.”  
Just a subtle nod from Anne. “Oui.”

“I figured so. Call me when you get home, okay? I’ll try to help you calm down,” with a smile, Maggie pulled Anne into a hug and then headed back to the other Ladies in Waiting. The four waved and headed off on their way, with the Queens all heading back home themselves.

This is where things begin to get messy.

––––––––––

It was about maybe 11:45 at this point. The stars were out and the queens were all in the living room, with Katherine somehow laying across all four of the other women sitting on the couch. Anne Boleyn? No where to be found. Probably in her room. 

She was staring at the scar in the mirror, choker tightly gripped in her hand. It felt like a fever dream–– standing in front of the mirror and seeing her head. The second wife felt herself beginning to shake. Her legs felt weak, her chest began to crush itself underneath its weight. Why wouldn’t it go away? Why wouldn't it leave her alone? She slammed the choker down on the vanity in her room, the thud getting the attention of everyone else.

A rather worked up and on the verge of tears Boleyn stormed out of her room, and snatched Jane’s keys from the key rack. That brought instant concern to Jane Seymour and the other queens. Katherine Howard sat herself upright and leaned forward. “Anne? Anne, what’s going on?”

“I can’t take the constant thundering knocks and the crowds! Everything burns, damn it! I... I need to go! I need some sort of closure for this,” Anne Boleyn started for the door. Jane Seymour immediately stood up, and started to pace over to the queen about to exit the house.

“Anne Boleyn, don’t you dare walk out that door.”

“Watch me.”

But it was too late. The wooden door was slammed shut, leaving five women in bewilderment at what had just happened. This was not normal behavior for Anne Boleyn, and anyone could attest to that. What had been festering in her head over the past few days would not leave her alone. The slamming door made Katherine Howard flinch and hunch her shoulders reflexively.

“Annie?”

––––––––––

It was going to be one hell of a drive. And she made sure to take her time.

But Anne Boleyn knew exactly where she was going.

The car seemed to have jerked to a stop, but it didn’t.

Shuddering, she got out of the car and closed the door, keys going into her pocket. Her steps began to feel like they were echoing in the silence. Looking up, her fists closed. The Tower of London, the very dreaded spot that she met her untimely fate, and where her cousin was murdered by Henry for things out of her control. Looking around, she realized she was alone. And for the first time that she could recall, she just fell to her knees, and let out a shrill scream.

“Damn you, damn you! Why don’t you ever leave me alone?!” Her hair fell over her face as she started crying. If she walked any father, she would’ve been where she was so many centuries ago, watching a crowd and awaiting for her head to get sliced off. “Let me live in peace! I just want to sleep one damn night!”

Forcing her tear-stained face to look up, she tried forcing herself to take a deep breath. 

The silence wasn’t unnerving, but rather welcoming. It was almost telling her to come closer to the Tower, and to the very spot she once stood in centuries ago. Standing up, with her whole body now shaking and her fighting back tears, Anne Boleyn began to walk forward. A slight breeze began to blow from the west, and it helped move some of the hair off of her face. Feeling herself fall to her knees again, Anne just screamed.

She was screaming. Yelling. Crying. Anything she could do to release her frustration. Her hands came up to her neck, and held it rather tightly in attempt to ease the burning down. She knew her throat would be shot from this. She knew she would not be able to sing, but she needed the release of emotion. It was almost cathartic to her. The Tower of London was giving her a second chance at letting her emotions out, as she couldn’t really do it on that fated day.

The breeze picked up as Anne continued to holler out and do whatever she could. The tight, crushing feeling of her chest was slowly going away. 

That was all she needed. She just needed to focus her emotions on something. This was that something. The silence was the something, and she could cry out to it and feel safe. There was no judgement, no looks of concern. Just Anne Boleyn and her feelings. Managing to stand up, she looks up at the night sky. Stars littered everywhere, but she can't help the anger from the recurring nightmares being her focus.

“Why, you bastard! Why did you have to kill her! Why us?! What have we ever done to you to get treated so terribly?! You broke Aragon’s heart, took my life, forced Jane into submission, made Cleves have terrible self doubt...” Her voice just got louder. “And Kitty! Poor Kitty died because of your total bullshit! It wasn't her fault! It will never be her fault! Do you hear me, Henry?! It was never her damn fault!”

––––––––––

She didn’t know the time.

Boleyn found herself at a lot more ease. Screaming until you literally couldn’t was not the healthiest thing to do, but it was the only thing she felt compelled to do. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she looks at the screen. Missed calls and text messages from the other queens. And Katherine’s was the most recent one.

_Annie... please come back home. We’re really worried about you._

All she did was respond with,  
_I’ll be there soon. I promise._

And true to her word Anne Boleyn was. She showed up back at the house maybe at around two in the morning, with the other queens all swarming to hug her when she got back. For the first time in maybe... a while, Anne could say she felt okay. She felt... fine. And being in the silence for a few hours truly was what made her feel so okay.


End file.
